Cyborg Doms: Fane (8 page)

* * * * *

Even after two long days, Tamara could not get Fane out of her mind. Alone in her bedroom, she brought his leather jacket up to her nose and inhaled. Her face heated.

She did not intend to return his coat. The man had burned his image in her brain. She sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the hair off her face. Sleep eluded her. God, she could still taste him and feel the swipe of his tongue across her lips. A man like Fane would satisfy her burning, sexual need, but she would soon tire of his gentleness. That just would not be fair—to him. The poor man had suffered enough. Jesus, how could the government do that to a man? He must have been so damn lonely to confide in her.

There was no way she intended to add the false hope of a normal relationship to his lot.

The memory of his gaze flashed into her mind. The man wanted love, and his instinct was to protect her— not flog her bare ass. She shook her head to clear her mind.

Tonight, she would go to Whips, and this time, she would submit fully to a dom and stop messing around. She needed pleasure-pain sex. An arrogant, demanding dom would rid her mind of Fane Jacobs.

* * * * *

Fane leaned against the wall opposite Tamara's office. Blocking out the noise of the busy street, he zoomed in and watched her chatting with the receptionist. She looked fine, dressed in a figure-hugging blue jacket and skirt, her hair swept off her face. The way her full breasts brushed against the white silk blouse made his mouth water. He would make his move soon and accidently bump into her on the way to lunch. A check of her account told him she always went to the same small café on the next block. He smiled to himself. She had kept his pheromone-soaked jacket. This was a good sign. Keeping away from him must be killing her.

He squared his shoulders. He'd give her one more shot. Yes, she was his dream girl, but he'd be damned if he'd stalk her, or worse, beg for a date. If she refused him—

again—he would walk away. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, her response to his kiss. The look in her eyes told him she found him attractive before the aphrodisiac saliva came into play. Hell, he had no doubt she wanted him. He had smelled her intoxicating, feminine arousal. The thought of losing the chance to get to know her made his heart ache. Perhaps his enhancements had frightened her away. If he recalled correctly, the knowledge of his two cocks had made her nipples harden. If she gave him a chance, he could act like a normal man and not a dom. He would forgo his personal preferences to have her in his life. Then again, after getting to know him, she might enjoy having her delicious, round bottom spanked.

A long, black hovercar glided into a space in front of the doctor's surgery. Two men alighted and walked into the office. Out of interest, Fane examined the unusual vehicle. Most hovercars of this time were compact, but this one had a reinforced shell, and the windows were two inches thick. The computer chip had an unusual encryption.

Fane set his AI to work hacking through the code. He sighed at the result.
Research and
Development. What the hell did they want with Tamara?

The two men loitered inside the reception area until a patient emerged from Tamara's office, then they strode inside. A few long minutes passed, and the men appeared at the door, holding the doctor between them. Fane's heart pounded. He began to cross the road, weaving between traffic. By the time he reached the other sidewalk, the men were opening the car door. Tamara glanced around wildly, and her wide-eyed gaze locked on Fane. He moved swiftly toward her. She shook her head and her lips formed the word
run.

Computer, lock on Research and Development vehicle. Engage tracking. Is Tamara
carrying her phone?
Fane's AI gave him the affirmative.
Lock on her phone
.
Scan Research
and Development mainframe for any reference to Dr. Tamara Bright. Link me to Jace.

"Yeah."
Jace answered immediately.

Fane hailed a cab
. "Some government agency has picked up Tamara. I'm accessing
their files now."
He climbed inside the vehicle's cool interior. "Strand Hotel . . . no . . . I want to buy a flybike. Do you know where I can get a good deal?"

"Sure." The cab driver grinned at Fane over one shoulder. "High Flybikes on the corner of West and Vine is the best place in town."

"Jace, meet me at High Flybikes, I'll send the coordinates. We can't rescue Tamara in a
cab."

"Rescue . . . is she in danger?"

Fane rubbed the back of his neck.
"According to the files, they picked up a body scan
of me when I got shot last night. They picked her up for questioning."

"Shot? You got fucking shot last night and forgot to mention it?"

"It was no big deal. I'll need help deleting files. The government has some strange encryptions. I'm forwarding all the information to your AI. We've gotta get her out of there now. The Feds will think she's a spy. They will torture her for information.

How you feel about breaking into a restricted government facility?"

"Don't do anything. They had strange encryptions in this time. I'm on my way."

Tamara sat back in her chair and glanced around the sterile room. Hell, the air had the smell of snow. The air conditioners must be working overtime. How far underground had she travelled? An iron bed with a rubber mattress and a pile of bed linen rested against one wall. A desk with a plastic jug of water, paper cups and a chair either side sat in the middle of the room. The two burly men who had escorted her into this underground labyrinth stood each side of the locked door. Another doorway, on the opposite side, blended into the shiny metal walls.

Had Fane gotten away? Lord, her heart had ached seeing him running to save her—again. No other man had made an impact on her like Fane. Jesus, he had become an obsession in a matter of days. Now she would save
him
. These bastards could torture her, and she would never give them any information on Fane. She eyed the guards suspiciously and remained silent, her hands folded in her lap. The door buzzed and clicked open. Lord, she was a prisoner. A tall man with dark hair graying at the temples took a chair at the desk in front of her and shuffled a stack of papers.

She glared at him. "Who are you, and why am I here? If you're planning to keep me here any longer, I want to see my lawyer."

"You are in grave trouble, Dr. Bright. In matters of this nature, we may keep you indefinitely without legal representation. My name is Peterson. Dr. Bright, are you aware that the government logs all technical abnormalities in medical equipment? The other night, the Bio Scanner in your office crashed. Subsequent system analyses have revealed the scanner was compromised." The man leaned his elbows on the table, his fingers making towers. "We also discovered the last scan recorded on the device could not belong to any human walking the earth today."

So, Mr. Peterson, you're out of the classified research loop. There's no way I'm telling
you about Fane. You will hunt him down and exterminate him.
Tamara narrowed her eyes.

"You are talking gobbledygook."

"Do you deny a man rescued you from a gang attack outside the clinic?"

Tamara noticed a hint of a smile on one of the guard's lips. Her stomach clenched. They had checked the damn CT cameras. She drew a steadying breath. "No, why should I? How in God's name does that relate to the Bio Scanner?"

"The man apparently received a gunshot wound, and yet you neglected to notify the authorities or enter his details into the system." Peterson leaned forward and stared unblinking at Tamara. "That in itself is a concern. Who is this man, Dr. Bright?"

Tamara smoothed her skirt over her knees and lifted her chin. She gave Peterson a small smile. "You mean, my knight in shining armor?" Her gaze fell on the paperwork on the desk. A printout of a holo-image lay on the top of a file. "There was nothing to report. In truth, Mr. Peterson, the man recovered and left. If he had the injuries you suggest, he would be in the hospital. If you check the police records, you will discover I put in an incident report about the gang attack the following morning."

"This is not a man, Dr. Bright." Peterson held up the scanner image. "
This
is a machine."

Leaning forward in her chair, Tamara feigned interest in the document. She raised a brow and laughed. "Good Lord, you don't expect me to believe that bit of nonsense, do you?" She snorted. "I'm a doctor. That's science fiction. Someone is playing you for a fool."

"I'm no fool." Peterson got to his feet and rounded the table. "This"—he pushed the image under Tamara's nose—"came off the Bio Scanner in your clinic during the time you were inside with the man you refuse to name."

Cold chills ran down Tamara's back. Peterson's black eyes bored into her, his broad body menacing with its closeness. She cleared her throat. "I will not subject my patient to this lunacy. The man saved my life, and under patient-doctor privilege, I refuse to name him."

Peterson returned to the desk, his face dark with fury. A trickle of perspiration ran between Tamara's breasts. With a humming sound, a vid-screen dropped down from the ceiling. The recording of the gang attack began to play. Tamara's heart threatened to break out of her chest. At the time, she had failed to notice how fast Fane moved. The gunshot wound had not slowed him down. He fought with remarkable skill and sustained several punches without flinching. The blow from behind with a baseball bat floored him. Heaven's above, the strike would have killed most men. Hell, she could not remember seeing a damn baseball bat.

"Replay and slow it down." Peterson pointed to the screen. "See that flash of light, that's the gunshot." He gave Tamara a gaze carved from granite. "If your
knight in
shining armor
wasn't hit, why are you ripping off your shirt and pressing it to the wound?" He walked to her chair, clasped both armrests, and stared into her face. "The blow to the back of the head was significant in itself, let alone the hole in his shoulder. I want information on this man. I don't care how long it takes, or what I have to do to get you to talk. You
will
tell me what I want to know."

Classified, Fane said the project that created him was a military secret. These idiots have
no idea they are investigating their own government research project.
Peterson stood so close Tamara could smell peppermints on his breath. She did not intend to give up national secrets to this idiot. Sighing, she met his gaze. "Sorry, I'm very patriotic, Mr. Peterson, and I have absolutely nothing further to say on this subject."

"Patriotic? That's a strange thing to say." Peterson pushed away from the chair.

"What did the injured man tell you?"

Tamara smiled. "Anything he said to me is privileged information. I swore an oath, Mr. Peterson, and I'm not breaking my patient's confidentiality for you or anyone else." She brushed a hand through her hair. "This interview is over." She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. "I must contact my office. I have patients waiting. How much longer do you intend to keep me here?"

"You won't be able make calls from inside the cell." Peterson scooped up the file on the desk and headed for the door. "And to answer your question, you will remain here until you give me a name." He walked to the exit and motioned the guards to follow him. "We'll leave you alone to think about your decision. Make yourself at home.

The bathroom is through that door."

Drawing a deep breath, Tamara watched them leave. Their behavior was probably standard procedure to soften her up. Intimidate the poor, feeble woman.

Threaten her and see what happens. Stupid assholes. She lived for this excitement. The stand-over tactics were mild compared to those she'd submitted willingly to in the past from the doms at Whips. She got to her feet and walked to the bed. She unfolded the neat pile of bed linen.
I might as well make myself comfortable.

* * * * *

Jace grasped the arms of one of the government agents they had highjacked on their way to work at the Research and Development facility, and dragged his body over to the cave. He found it hard to believe these Earth people were so vulnerable. All the agents had to do was log in their ETA at the R & D facility on the company's security mainframe, and he had them. Stopping a hovercar that ran on a simple computer was child's play for his AI.

He grinned at Fane. "This is too easy. I used their own Tazer technology to subdue them. They should be out for some time. When we return the car, they won't remember a thing. They'll think their Tazers malfunctioned and knocked them out."

"Are you sure they don't have body scanners in the building?" Fane dragged the other man inside and propped him against the wall of the cave. The man's head dropped to his chest, spittle leaking from his slack mouth. Fane grimaced and turned to Jace. "If they discover we're not agents, we're toast."

With a laugh, Jace turned to his friend. "They use retina scanners. I've uploaded everything we need to pass as agents. The hovercar is standard, government issue and will pass the security scans—it's our ticket to get inside the complex. There are two mainframes in the building. One runs general security and one is classified. The one we need is inside a lead-lined room, as far as I can gauge. I'll need to be in the same area to pull this off."

"It's times like these I'm really glad you designed all this stuff in your past life.

I'm grateful you taught me so much . . . but I had no idea of your skills . . . what you're doing here is way out there." Fane rubbed his chin. "What about Tamara?"

"They have holding cells underground, so I'm guessing Tamara will be there. I'm trying to create a secure connection to her phone, which is difficult with this outdated technology. My AI is upgrading her phone's communication module. We should be able to contact her by M. S. in a few minutes. If she inserts the module under her skin, the connection would be permanent." He chuckled. "Her pussy will do for now."